


EDM Ficlets

by vtn



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF, Justice (Band)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unconnected short stories I wrote in EDM (electronic dance music) fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Next Big Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of all the attention Trash has been getting lately, Erol decides to close the doors to newcomers and bring the original Trash family back together for one special night only.

After countless magazine shoots where he's told he's so This Year and Trash is The Next Big Thing, Erol Alkan throws a royal fit. He's tossed three glasses against the wall (resulting in some very satisfying shattering noises) when Rory finally interrupts him with a gentle hand on Erol's shoulder.

"But—listen—I don't want to be This Year—I think I—well, it's not about me, but Trash is something that should be forever, not just Right Now, and I'm trying to be a private citizen while people are shoving cameras in my face!" He sullenly pulls his wool hat down further over his forehead. "Can't you tell them to bugger off or something?"

"Erol," says Rory patiently, "There's no need to get upset. I mean, think about it—all this publicity is good for us. All over the world there are probably people who think like we do and they're waiting for something like Trash to come along."

"Yes," says Erol, peeking out of his hat. He's so tired. "But there was once a time when the people here were a family."

\---

Rory knows Erol is right, and so the next Monday Phil the Door Guy is given precise instructions to only let in people he knows personally, and Erol is planning. It's really amazing to watch, Rory thinks. The way his mind works. It's like watching da Vinci must have been. He thinks of things, his eyes light up and he's scribbling away unintelligibly on a notepad. To anyone else, just about, a night is just a night. A party is just a party. For Erol, everything is a chance to work magic.

\---

Outside The End, sequined girls and glittering boys await the judgment call. Many stalk away sighing and murmuring about where else they could go on a Monday night. It hurts a little bit, but it's worth it, Erol knows. Because everyone who makes it over the threshold is there for the same reason.

Erol swears, tries to pull one of his boots on. It's been ages since he's worn these and, well. No one's perfect. But then it fits, and he breathes a sigh of relief and steps out.

\---

Behind the decks he stands in platform heels and fishnets, a black dress clinging to his chest and hips like an anxious lover. He gives Rory a deep kiss for good luck (which, to the great amusement of their friends, makes Rory blush like a Catholic schoolgirl) and then proceeds to turn the room into a carnival.

\---

Later Erol is exhausted, drunk and happy, his face smeared with makeup as he lies on Rory's lap. 

"Do you get it now?" Rory says, playing with a lock of Erol's hair.

"Get what?"

"This can only happen every once in a while, that's why it's magic."

And Erol gets it.


	2. Fixening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xavier and Gaspard repair Valentine together. WHAT NO VALENTINE IS TOTALLY A REAL SYNTHESIZER I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

At sound check, Xavier is the only one trying to be serious. It's so typical, he thinks, that Gaspard just wants to goof off and flirt while he is stuck with his head inside Valentine, nearly blinded by the cross which is lit up over his head, trying to get everything connected. 

They haven't played a live show in a while, and he's forgetting how to do this as of late. Silently he curses Gaspard for being the one to have this idea in the first place. Having a gigantic space-age synthesizer makes lots of sense until you have to fix it, and you're being ignored.

"Xavier," Gaspard says sheepishly, walking over to Valentine with a tiny flashlight. "I'm sorry—"

"For what?" Xavier does his best to sound indifferent. 

"You're angry with me…." And of course he knows, he always does. 

"Well, get to work, then," says Xavier cheerily. Gaspard kneels on the floor and starts plugging in cables.

After a few minutes, Gaspard says, "I can't do this." Xavier grits his teeth, tries to resist the urge to kick him.

"What do you mean, you can't do this." 

"You're distracting me," he says, exasperated. "You're lying there with your legs spread like—like a whore, and it's distracting." Oh.

"Rrrggggggh, you!" says Xavier. It's a rock and a hard place because he's not going to tell off Gaspard for wanting to sleep with him; it would only make him a hypocrite. Then he has an idea, and spreads his legs wider. "Hey," he says, "Just think, the faster we get this done the more free time we will have later," and Gaspard nods, swallows, and turns back to his work.


	3. Japanese Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ed Banger boys take Japan.

Japanese nights are crazy—cruising past the sardines-in-a-can streets of Tokyo in a spacious limousine, hordes of girls screaming your name and drawing your band's logo on their chests—and Xavier is crazier. It's sort of a contest of showmanship, and these are the sorts of things that happen when he gets enough hard liquor in him. 

Gaspard is being the responsible one tonight, and he'll have none of it, so Xavier contents himself to hanging off of Sebastian's arm. Sebastian isn't exactly pleased. Xavier presses a plastic cup of Kirin into Sebastian's hand and Sebastian's dour look fades a little to the point where he even lets Xavier nuzzle into his neck the way he does when he's happy. 

That's about when Alex arrives. He gets there in a coat—it's a chilly day—but wears his usual tight T-shirt underneath. He beats on his chest, whistles at girls, and greets the snuggling Xavier and Sebastian with a heartfelt, "hey, homos!" Xavier makes a face and Alex responds by kissing him full on the lips. That works.

Sebastian looks even more upset now that he's had Xavier stolen away from him, so Alex makes up for it by pretending to masturbate the both of them. Of course Pedro snaps a photo at that moment, but that's just sort of the way he rolls.


	4. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surkin likes the way Sebastian's body talks.

Surkin likes Sebastian because he doesn't talk. His communication is physical—tugging on Surkin's hands, biting his ears after he's just shouted in them over the music, slapping his face when Surkin's had too much to drink and is falling over himself. And the bass and the eat-you-alive synth lines in Sebastian's music—they speak for him too.

It's his style. Terse, harsh messages that Surkin can't easily forget. His nails in Surkin's thighs while Sebastian's blowing him. The way he scoffs and puts out cigarettes on the windowsills of his flat when he's angry. When Surkin is angry, he talks and talks and talks until Sebastian clamps a hand over his mouth and pushes his hard cock into Surkin's ass and it's perfect the way it's so impersonal, and when he comes he's never angry anymore.

Jean tells him he needs to watch out, that his innocence is precious and he needs to hold onto it, that Sebastian is all sharp edges that will cut into Surkin's softness. Surkin just puts out a cigarette on the windowsill and laughs and tells Jean to stop being so in love with him. Jean laughs too, and kisses him. He could almost believe the world revolves around him, then.

The best thing, though, Surkin decides, is watching Sebastian mix records. And it's his proof Sebastian isn't made of stone, because everything he feels is pouring from the speakers. It's all right there, and Surkin is willing to listen.


	5. Vogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pedro spends some time with Gaspard, Xavier, and Mark "the Cobra Snake" at a fashion show.

Sometimes Pedro can't figure out how it works. Xavier and Gaspard like him enough, and so they come up close to him and tell him things they don't tell everyone, come to him with their problems or their eyes all a-sparkle with good news. But they still haven't drawn him into their complex personal world. 

Nor does he really get how they manage not to murder each other. By the time Gaspard shows up to the event, an hour late and with a towel over his wet hair Xavier is already chain smoking and deeply embroiled in an argument with Mark Cobra Snake over which is Madonna's best single. He scarcely even acknowledges Gaspard is there, just snatches one of his Marlboros and rests his legs in Gaspard's lap.

"I have to say, I'm gonna go with 'Ray of Light' on this one," says Mark from behind his camera. 

"Non, non, non, it is 'Vogue'," Xavier says. Gaspard leans his head on Xavier's shoulder.

"But listen, the video for 'Ray of Light' was like, really groundbreaking, and the song just really has this meaning I think we can all associate with," Mark counters. 

"You are both wrong," says Gaspard softly. "It is 'Like a Virgin'." Xavier just gives him a Look for not defending Xavier's opinion but quickly moves on to other topics of conversation, pausing only to make fun of Gaspard's choice of headgear and smoke cigarettes in his face.

But that's the way they are. It's not much later that the party quiets down and Pedro finds the two of them sprawled on the couch together kissing, Xavier's hand in Gaspard's curls and the most peaceful expression on Gaspard's face. That's love, Pedro guesses, and that's explanation enough.


	6. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erol isn't sure he should let himself love Xavier, but it's so hard not to.

Part of Erol wonders if it isn't just because Xavier reminds him of himself that he looks out for the kid. Just like Erol was when he was in his twenties, Xavier is holding in his hands the reigns to a horse he's still not sure how to control. 

"No," he says to himself, twirling a finger in Xavier's hair, "That'd be weird. That'd be fucking weird."

"What's weird?" says Xavier sleepily. Erol hadn't known he was still awake. 

"You remind me a little of me. It's kind of narcissistic."

"I like that…." Xavier muses. Then he snorts. "But you can't say your own name when you come." The suddenness and absurdity of the statement makes Erol burst into laughter.

\---

They still can't agree on who seduced whom. Erol will claim it was all Xavier, shaking his hips in tight jeans and playing coy, looking up through his thick overlong fringe to inquire about the purposes of various sliders on Erol's MIDI controller. Xavier asserts it was Erol, it was completely Erol, the way he was so gentle with Xavier as he showed him the ropes, leaving his hand lingering too long on Xavier's hand and inching closer behind Xavier until his body was pressing Xavier's against the table.

They'll both agree that their rolling around on the floor stark naked at 4AM was the fault of both of them equally. Erol remembers it as a moment when he shed a decade, remembering the excess of his previous years, seeking pleasure for pleasure's sake. He left bite marks on Xavier's skin, couldn't stop running his tongue over the birthmark on Xavier's arm, felt like for the first time he could remember he had to relearn human anatomy.

And then Xavier, the chain-smoking, prank-playing little bastard that he was, slept on the rug as serenely as an angel. Erol still doesn't know how to deal with that.

\---

Tonight has been all about indulging Xavier. Shaken from a turbulent flight and feeling the lack of his omnipresent band- and soul-mate, the Frenchman had been a little ill ever since he arrived in the UK. Even Chandra (who still resents Xavier a little) had a kind word or two for him, and had made him tea. 

Erol almost felt paternal about the whole thing until he saw the look in Xavier's eyes as Xavier climbed up onto the bed. That was the sort of look that could burn your clothes right off you. Clothes of course did come off in the moments following, and now, the two of them exhausted and sated, there's a silence between them that makes Erol wonder if this is always what it's like with Gaspard.

And when Xavier whispers, "I love you," Erol wonders even more. He wonders if perhaps they have slipped into some place they aren't meant to be, and he waits for the nausea to come, but it refuses. And he wonders if maybe they can stay in that place for a while. Maybe until morning.


	7. Other People's Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaspard and Xavier try to cheer Pedro up after a breakup. (Explicit sexual content.)

"Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Harold Square," Xavier is singing. He hangs up his coat, removes his shoes, and releases his hair from a stocking cap he borrowed off Gaspard. "Tell all the gang at Forty-Second street that I will soon be there." He takes off his shirt and socks and walks over to sit shivering in a very modern-looking chair. 

He waits.

"I like those jeans," says Gaspard, walking idly into the room. Xavier looks up and smiles thinly. "Nice nipples, too." Xavier rolls his eyes. "Let's make out."

Xavier is never averse to that sort of suggestion. In two minutes the chair is upended on the floor and Gaspard's hand is between Xavier's head and the rug, Xavier's jeans are undone and Gaspard is touching him.

That's the scene Pedro sees when he arrives. Xavier, startled by the noise, looks up to see Pedro bury his face in the palm of his hand, sweaty fingers sliding down his forehead. 

"What's this?" he asks.

Gaspard gets his hand off Xavier's dick and puts two fingers to Xavier's lips.

\---

It's a stupid joke. Xavier is yanking down Pedro's underwear past the sharp ridge of his skinny hips, Gaspard is licking his finger and clutching Pedro's other leg, and [that's how](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v72/burning-wings/junk/sexy.jpg), the joke goes, they got signed to Ed Banger Records. But then at the end of the photo shoot, Pedro is rubbing Xavier's head, touching Gaspard's leg, handing them his house keys, telling them when to meet him. 

"This is a fucking terrible idea," Xavier tells Gaspard, pinning him against a brick wall so he can't escape. 

"I know," says Gaspard, "But." The look in his eyes says everything. Xavier lowers his arms and just buries his head in Gaspard's chest, under Gaspard's chin; his lips scratch against Gaspard's stubble and he feels safe.

\---

Pedro can't stay hard long enough to fuck either of them. It ends up just like the photo, the two of them trading off putting their mouths over his cock, until finally he gets off and doesn't speak a word. 

Gaspard, twenty minutes later, comes on Pedro's carpet, Xavier buried in his ass. Xavier closes his eyes, blocks out the angry words, and keeps thrusting into Gaspard until he finishes. He holds Gaspard in his arms on the floor and doesn't say I told you so.

"We only made it worse," says Gaspard, finally. Pedro is snoring, so there's no chance of him overhearing. 

"We can't solve other people's problems." Xavier runs his hand through Gaspard's hair. "He'll get over her when he's ready."

"It would have been nice if he'd have fucked me. Or you. I would have liked to watch him fuck you."

"Hmph." Now that Gaspard has been so verbose, it's Xavier's turn to be quiet.

"Okay, for God's sake, okay, you should already know."

"I want to hear you say it." He's only teasing Gaspard now, not really angry.

"I love you and I love the way you fuck me."

"Okay."

They clean the rug, get dressed, and get a cab back to their flat. It takes a few rounds of Mario Kart until either of them can laugh again, but they do. They laugh enough to fill the emptiness of Pedro not laughing, then they sleep because they've done enough.


End file.
